The Child of the Dark
by NaaraHatake
Summary: Though some have called him mad, perhaps it was true, loneliness was not all he had. Will the Phantom's child find the Angel of Music or will she want vengence at Christine and her lover for breaking her father's heart?
1. Prolouge

**I don't own The Phantom of the Opera in movie, theater, or book form.**

**(Four Years Before Erik reveled himself to Christine.)**

A piercing wail echoed through the deserted and dark streets. Light snow fall muffled the cries so no sound could be heard through the windows. Only one being heard the pleas for attention.

Black boots crunched softly on the freshly fallen snow. A cape of the same shade hit the backs of his boots as he descended down the street. Light from light posts illuminated the path the stranger took just enough for the man to see a basket in the distance. The basket sat under a red canopy, keeping the snow from touching the bundle that laid in it.

The stranger in black the distance from the basket with brisk paces. Before him, wrapped in a thin white blanket, was an infant girl squirming and gasping for air as she screamed for her dear life. The cloth around her was doing her no justice in keeping the cold air from her fragile skin.

The man cocked his head to the right, "This was the cry of pain and sorrow I had heard? An infant? Out here?" He scanned the surrounding area, finding not a single soul. His gaze retreated back to the child, "It looks like you were abandoned as well my dear." The baby whimpered in reply before crying out once more.

In curiosity, the man bent down to one knee and reached out a gloved hand. He caressed her left cheek with his thumb. The babe's cries died down as she gawked up at this masked man with large, cold grey eyes. The man's own hard eyes softened. Something caught his eye when he pulled his hand way. Three long scars ran down from under the child's eye down to her cheek.

A sad smile graced the man's lips, "I was not the only one who was not wanted little one." He rubbed the soft flesh tenderly. The baby's lower lip began to quiver. The masked man shushed the girl softly and picked her up with such care.

Short locks of white hair poked out of the blanket. The grey eyes glimmered in the light as the bundle was picked up. The Phantom lifted from the ground and cradled her with the utmost affection. He wrapped the child with his cape. The girl's eyes began to fall slowly as the warmth greeted her; calling her to sleep.

The Phantom brushed her hair back with his free hand, "You and I have many similarities," He spoke to the child, slowly making his way to his opera house, "We both have a disfigurement on one side of the face. We have no one to care or nurture us. No parents or friends. No one to love us. I won't do that to you though, child. I shall keep you from the cruel world and of the evil people who live in it. I shall give you all of the talent I can give you in the arts, in strategy strength."

He watched the child's chest raise and fall as she slept. He whispered, "As long as you stay with me, child, I shall love and protect you from the injustices that people can give for all of the days in time. That, I promise you my sweet...Anya; my Dark Angel."

He reached the entrance to his lair. He pushed up the iron bars and ducked into his cave.

Inside of his little make shift home, he placed Anya on his bed, surrounding her in pillows. He placed a small blanket onto her small form and stood over her, "I shall be back child." With a swish of his cape, he was gone.

* * *

><p>Madame Giry had a long day at rehearsal. The singers were off key, the dancers were clumsy, and the props weren't made in time. It happened to everyone and she shouldn't get so tense over a silly thing. The day of opera weren't for another week. They were fine, so she told herself.<p>

She couldn't have been more relieved when she ended up in her quarters. Madame Giry shuffled her sore feet to her window and watched the remaining snow fall. Just as she began to relax she sighed in frustration, "Speak what you want Erik, I am rather frustrated and I don't want to deal with you."

She turned to face the boy she saved those many years ago. The Phantom stood with his cape draped over both of his arms. He was not surprised that the old hag could sense him. They had both gotten use to each other to know how the other thinks, well, almost. Erik's lips thinned till only a line showed before speaking, "I found an infant on the streets. I have decided to keep her. I need milk of some sort to feed her, and clothes as well." This was more of a statement than a request.

Madame Giry's face widened in shock for a moment (much like the time she found out he was tutoring Christine) before turning professional, "You know where the small kitchen is. Take one bottle; that should serve your needs for two days or three. As for clothes, I will go into town tomorrow to buy some for you." The dark man nodded in acknowledgment. Before he turned to go, she rested a hand on his shoulder, "What is her name? The child?"

The man stood silent before saying, "Anya, my Dark Angel." With that, he disappeared into the hallway, probably heading down one of those secret hallways.

Madame Giry shook her head; _I hope this child would make you sane Erik._

**I hope that this was sufficient enough.**

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	2. Chapter 1

**I do not own the Phantom of the Opera in any shape or form.**

**(Seventeen years later.)**

"Well of course, Monsieur, your daughter would be perfect to join us. She may be a little young bit she has much skill in all of the arts needed for opera. She is spectacular Monsieur!"

The man in the white mask nodded once, "Yes, I taught her well."

The manager crossed his fingers, "Yes, you quite have. So, she will be living at the opera house? We have few rooms available and I just want to make sure that I heard you right."

Erik nodded, "Yes. My estate is quite a ways from here. It takes many hours to get from my mansion to this town. I don't want my dear child to be late to anything or tired from the trip. It would be best if she stayed here for the time being."

Both of the men stood and shook hands. The ex Phantom grabbed the door knob and let him self out. Down the hall, only a few feet away, was a young lady sitting on a cushioned bench. She was leaning forward with her slender hands hanging from her lap. Her white hair laid flat against her spine and her bangs hung in front of her face.

On her body was a long strapless black dress that hugged her torso yet gave her much leg room. Ruffles were at the top and bottom of the clothing. Thick, fashionable black boots sat underneath the dress. The teen's black mask (which was held on the left side of her face) highlighted her grey eyes. Those eyes had a sinister and crazed look in them; much like her father.

The odd colored haired teen looked up at her father's arrival. Her gaze matched his as Erik slowly made his way to his daughter. He stopped only a few feet in front of Anya.

Anya glanced at the manager's office then back at her father. She whispered, "Did he recognize you?"

Erik brushed the arm of his coat, "Please child, give me some credit. The fake name I have given my self had made me a new and respected man that made it possible for no one familiar with my works to accuse me of being The Phantom; that also had me pull a few strings to get you here. I also given us a very grounded background story; giving us a perfect alibi for wearing our masks. Now, why the questions? Are you having second thoughts Daughter?"

The child rubbed her hands together unconsciously. She lowered her voice to a mere whisper, "Yes, well, no. I'm just...," she glanced away, "I don't want to go if it makes you unhappy."

A deep and frustrated sigh escaped from the ex Phantom's lips. He bent down to Anya's eye level and held his daughter's clammy hands in his. He reached Anya's chin and forcefully made her look at him. Despite the harsh gesture, his eyes were full of concern. He said softly, "My Dove, my Dark Angel, you have been begging me to join this opera house. I have already arranged you a room here," A sneer replaced his frown, "Why make me go through the trouble and then get cold feet?"

This young musician had wanted to join for a year, saying she needed to at least perform in front of those wretched people once. She wanted to show the world that a monster was better than all of them, or so she told her father. Her real reason was the only secret she kept from her father.

Anya shook her head, "I do want to go Papa, honestly I do. It's just," She bit her lip, "I'm frightened!"

Erik had expected this. The child had never been around other human beings. She wasn't even around people when her and her father went to the opera. The older musician always paid for a box seat, away from other people. Their food was delivered to their estate and no one was around them for miles. She was socially deprived and having attachment issues on the thought of leaving her only friend.

The Phantom ran his fingers through the young woman's locks. He murmured, "My Anya, you are a strong young lady. I taught you in every aspect of the arts; writing, singing, instrumental, acting, and drawing/painting. I even taught you how to defend your self! You shall get through this love. Show the world of what kind of fruits your labor has given you!" He stroked the girl's cheek. A slight smile appeared on his sad face, "Now, stop with this entire moping child, it is not like you. Besides, I have a gift for you."

The Dark Angel's eyes brightened. She placed her slender hands back on her lap. Erik reached into his coat pocket as pulled out a chain necklace. He brought it around the girl's neck and attached the ends. He pulled back to let his daughter appreciate her gift.

Anya looked down at the chain that hung from the necklace. It was a little silver rose with 'Dark Angel' engraved on the back. She heard her father's voice, "To remind you of me my dove."

The teen was over whelmed with emotion that she does not how to use. Instead, she leans towards her father and wrapped her arms around him. She hugs him fiercely, "Thank you Papa! I shall wear it always!"

Erik returned the gesture. He pulled back and sat on his heels. He stroked Anya's cheek, "Now, what do you do when you are here?"

The teen sat in the bench with her posture now straight. She changed her expression to a serious one. She said the next few things in a military tone, "Never trust or befriend anyone; they would be bound to hurt me. Be perfect in everything I do but do not show it off. Try to avoid people; if I can not, act good natured. Never show my true intentions in the beginning and never take off my mask."

Erik kissed her forehead, "As long as you do those things, you shall be fine my dear," He stood, bringing Anya up with him, "I must go now. I shall see you at your first performance."

Anya looked up at him with doe eyes, "Promise?"

The ex Phantom kissed the top of her head right as the manager stepped out of the office. He whispered in her ear, "On all of my soul and being, on all of my love, I promise."

The manager beamed, "What a dotting father you are Monsieur! Well, Miss Renarz, are you ready?" From the man's graying hair, he looked to be in his sixties. He was well feed, which was shown in very obvious reasons. His face was round yet he had a long, thing nose.

Anya nodded reluctantly. Erik bowed his head, "I will see you at your opera my dove," He then bowed his head towards the manager, "Good day Monsieur." With that, he left.

The manager's smile never left his lips as he said to Anya, "Shall we take the tour Miss Renarz?"

**I hope this was good enough. I wanted Anya to be slightly crazy like her father, yet I think I will make sure she controls her temper. What is Erik's new name? That shall be in the next chapter. Frankly, I am slightly curious how she will act around people. I still haven't figured that out yet.**

**You know, I was thinking of going through Anya's life when she was under the old opera house, but decided to just get to the point. Maybe I will put flash backs. **

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	3. Chapter 2

**I do not own Phantom of the Opera. Sadly.**

Anya moved swiftly behind the manager, James was his name, tuning out most of the tour. She had already read the blueprints multiple times and had memorized every nook and cranny of the house. She was now analyzing the decor of the place.

The decor of the entire building was decorated nicely. The floors were marble and the walls had a red wall paper with intricate designs. **(Red dye cost a lot in those days. Shows how much money the house has.) **Tasteful statues were placed through out of the building.

Finally, after she dropped of her baggage, they reached the place that she wanted to be at most. The stage. People of all types were busying themselves with rehearsal. The manager clapped his hands loudly, "Alright people. Come and greet the newest young lady to our stage."

Anya had wished he hadn't done that because now many eyes were on her form. She had never felt more uncomfortable in her lifetime. Many of the actors, dancers, and singers gathered around the Dark Angel and James. The old man bellowed, "Now, I would like you all to great Miss Anya Renard." Loud squeals came from the woman and many shocked faces from the men.

A young girl with blonde hair, about thirteen or so, ran up to her, "Are you the daughter of the Enzo Renard, famous writer and composer of operas?"

Anya nodded slowly. Erik had to give his daughter a good place to live, so he decided to make operas under another name; Enzo Renard. To say he was famous would be an understatement.

Girls of all ages rushed her with questions. Such as, 'What is he like?', 'Does he play all the time?', 'Do you live in a mansion?', 'Can I be your friend?' and so on.

Suddenly, they were all waved away by a beautiful woman with long blonde hair. She was tall and slender with a very plan dress on. The blonde walked over to Anya. She smiled lightly, "Sorry about them Anya."

A slight smile graced the young musician's lips, "It is quite fine Meg. How are you? I haven't seen you in many moons."

Meg Willams chuckled softly, "I am fine. I would've greeted you and your father earlier but I am was busy with rehearsal."

Two Italian looking teens, one female and one male, stepped forward. The girl asked, "You know Enzo Renard Madame Willams?"

The younger Willams nodded, "Yes. Enzo is my mother's adoptive brother." Meg raised her hand before any one could speak, "I do not want to be bombarded with questions. I also suggest that you don not bother Anya with all of those questions either." Grumbles echoed through out the stage as the area began to fill out.

The few left was the two Italian teens and the child that ran up to her first. Meg sighed and motioned to the elder two, "These are the twins Rosa and Jose." The two looked to be about a few years older than her.

The two stood next together looking obnoxiously, "Finally, another person who has a famous parent." Anya raised an eyebrow in question. Rose huffed, "You do not believe? Well, our mother is Carlotta Giudicelli. She was the Prima Dona at the Paris Opera house."

Jose crossed his arms, "You could say that girl over there," He gestured his head over to the blonde girl, "was important. Her father is the Viscount and her mother use to sing with ours. But our mother says that her mother was but a toad who ruined her career by bringing the Phantom to our mother's performance."

Anya's eyes brightened slightly at the name of the Viscount. If that girl was the daughter of him, then she was also the daughter of Christine. She was now guided to the path she has been looking for. Now all she had to do was to get there. In side, she was smiling at something that no one should smile about.

Meg sighed at the old name of Anya's father. Anya did not have a short temper that her father use to have, but a single word that was against the ex Phantom would end up in the grave. She was about to find an excuse to get the twins away from the young musician when Anya walked away from them. She slowly made her way to the daughter of Christine. Meg decided not to interfere, but kept a vigilant eye on them.

The little blonde's eyes widen when the daughter of a famous man approached her. She stumbled, "Hello Miss Renard." She curtsied awkwardly.

Anya tried her best to smile. It was time to use what she learned from plays to act her way through this, "Please, call me Anya."

The child beamed, "A-as you wish. I'm Tina."

A sinister look in her eye appeared and disappeared faster than a heart beat. Miss Renard curtsied as well, "It is a pleasure to meet you. Before we talk much further, do you know where the dressing room is? I seem to have forgotten what that old coot has said."

Tina squealed in delight, "Yes, yes. It is right over here."

The girl ran behind a large prop, Anya followed. The odd child chuckled and thought, _This is going to be too easy._

* * *

><p>Erik sat quietly in the carriage as it took him back to his estate. That did not mean that he his mind was quiet. Oh no, his mind was flying around in his head, trying to figure things out. To figure his daughter out to be more precise. He feared for her, he feared for her greatly.<p>

You see, the man didn't _want _his daughter to use those rules she had quoted to him. He _wanted _her to make friends and to be around others. Before he left the opera house, he would've been proud to hear those words from her mouth, but now, he wanted to never hear it from her again. Why the change in heart?

After he let Christine go with her lover, after he took Anya and bought the mansion he lives in now, he changed in what he thought on life. It wasn't right away that he decided to change; it was in a year how ever. The kiss Christine given him opened his heart to people and allowed himself to let the past go. He forgave Christine, and he slightly forgave Roaul, for hurting him.

When his transformation was done, he wanted his daughter to do things he never could do. He wanted her to go into the world. So, he enrolled her into boarding school when she was six. That was the worst mistake he ever made in his life.

The first week was done and she was home again. She ran out of the carriage and up the steps where Erik waited for her. She held onto his leg for dear life as she sobbed into his pant leg. He picked her up and tried to sooth her. Anya said that they all made fun of her mask and hair. They laughed at her thin form and her pale skin. Never in her life time has he ever seen her cry like that.

Anya begged him to never make her go in front of people again and he had promised. Once be promises something for his Dark Angel, he would keep it till death. The only other people she knew was his 'sister', Madame Giry, Meg and Thomas, the coach driver.

After that day, she repeated those rules she learned when she was two over and over again. She saw how cruel people were and never wanted to go through it again. So, to please his daughter, he went along with it. It made her happy, thus making him happy.

Now, out of the blue, she wants to be in an opera house. Frankly, it confused him to no end. He denied her at first because it wouldn't have broke the promise he made all those years ago. Yet his defensives broke when she used 'the face' on him. He hated it when she made that face because he knew he would always fall to it.

He didn't know what to make of it, but he had bad feeling in the bottom of his heart.

**Hope that was satisfaction. Well, Carlotta is Italian in the movie and Spanish in the book. So, I used the last name she had in the movie but used Spanish names for her children. The twins are older than Anya because Carlotta's lover was one of the guys who Erik killed in the movie.**

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**Your Obedient Friend,**

**Naara Hatake.**

**Eric-(That is my thing!)**


	4. Chapter 3

A pale hand rapped on the mahogany door. Ruffling of papers could be heard on the other side of the door before it opened to the blonde instructor. Meg smiled cautiously, "I see you found my office."

Anya shrugged before letting herself in. Meg sighed; _She has her father's manners. _The masked girl sat on the cushioned chair in front of the desk casually. Meg sat on the opposite side of her. She laced her fingers together as she studied the child. Anya hated being studied, so she decided to break the ice. "So, how is that English husband of yours? Uh, Fec right?"

Meg laughed softly, "Frank, his name is Frank dear. He is fine. He is on his trip toEnglandagain. I guess that's what you get for marrying a business man." Meg tapped the desk lightly, "So, what can I do for you?"

The dark angel shrugged, "You are the only one I truly care to have company with. Besides, that Tina girl had left to her home. She is quite dull you know."

The dancer sighed, "You better not hurt Tina Anya. She is a sweet girl who does not need any trauma from your actions."

Anya scoffed as she placed a hand on her chest. In a mocking manner, she said, "Me? Hurt the girl? Why would I ever do such a thing?" She narrowed her eyes, "I won't hurt the child. I came here to show people what true art is. Considering that no one here has any talent, I would be a savor to this opera house."

The younger woman stood from her chair before walking briskly to the door. Meg called out, "I don't know what you are planning Anya, but what ever happens, you are on your own. I refuse to account for your actions. Unlike my mother, I have principles."

Anya chuckled softly, "Oh, my dear Meg, I already knew that. But don't you worry your pretty blonde hair Madame. I don't intend to kill any one," She left the room before the woman could say anything else. Anya sneered as she closed the door. She murmured to herself, "Who doesn't deserve to die."

With a twirl of her skirt, she disappeared into the shadows, sneaking off to her room.

* * *

><p>The sun rose, shinning light onto the opera house. After a small breakfast, the cast and stage crew met on the stage. A few minutes later, the other members who sleep at their own estates entered as well. Tina was apart of that group.<p>

The manager stood in the middle of the group. He bellowed, "Good morning everyone! I have finally decided what we shall perform. Since we are graced with Miss Renard's presence," He gestured to Anya, "we will perform one of her father's works."

The crowd murmured amongst themselves with excitement. James laughed, "Now, I was thinking that Rosa and Jose shall be the leads, like always." The circle of people nodded their heads in approval. In the back of the group, stood Anya looking calm as ever. On the inside, she was scowling.

Jose tapped his twin's shoulder and whispered into his other half's ear, "You should let Anya have the lead. If we have good connections with her, then we have good connections with her father. We would be even more famous my dear sister. I have a feeling that Enzo himself would demand us in operas."Rosanodded in agreement. She stepped towards the manager and every one fell silent. Little Rosie was going to say something important, and no one would want to interrupt her.

She cleared her throat, "Monsieur, thank you for choosing me, but I do not accept." Shocked silence filled the on, "Since this is a Renard piece, I believe that the daughter of Enzo should sing this piece. It is only fitting that she plays this role."

James laughter caused his body to shake. He opened a hand to Anya, "That is an excellent idea! Tell me, Anya, will your father attend the performance?"

Anya couldn't help chuckled, "Well of course. He attends any play he had made and he promised he would be at my first performance."

Girls squealed once more. They ran up to Anya, "Will we be able to meet your father Miss Renard?"

The dark angel's brow furred as she thought of an answer. So, she told them that was the honest truth, "I am not sure. He is not much of a crowd person."

Madame Williams showed the girls away, "Go on and get dressed. We need to start practicing."

Young women and men alike slowly sauntered off to their dressing rooms. Scripts were handed out to the vocal parts while the dancers learned the lay out of the dancing. Anya did not accept the script. She kindly said, "I have sang and acted out this entire play with my father. I do not believe I need the script."

James seemed slightly frustrated yet pleased. The manager was a man of perfection. He had dealt with a singer who had been cocky and refused the script. The opera had ended in tears of sorrow for the manger. It was the worst opera he had ever seen. He did not want that to be repeated. Normally, he would yell. Yet, he did not for her father was very wealthy man who could ruin him by simply saying they had bad dancers.

Calmly, James crossed his fingers and said, "Anya, I would prefer if you look over the script. Please."

Unexpectedly, Anya began to laugh. She opened her arms as she walked to the front of the stage. "If I may, my manager, I would like to show you I need not a script or score."

She loosened her limbs and breathed deeply. She closed her eyes and began to sing. The part that she sung was a sad and depressing song that told of a lover's death. She sang with much passion and emotion that everyone in the room stopped to stare. Tears swelled in the manager's eyes. When she finished, a loud applause echoed on the stage.

The manger clapped his hand twice more. He seemed ecstatic, "That was wonderful! I suppose your father taught you this opera very well."

Tina skipped to Anya. She squeaked with excitement, "You have a pretty singing voice! I think you are just as good as my mommy! Maybe you are better!"

The singer thought to her self, _I better damn well be better than her. I have been singing with Papa since I was two. Living with him may have also given me more time to practice._

The white headed girl just smiled, "Thank you Tina. You are kind."

* * *

><p>Weeks of rehersal were already under way. Anya had sat back and watched the vocalist practicing her father's song. When a high, and very off pitch was sung, Anya couldn't help but flinch. To keep her father and the play from being a laughing stock, she 'helped' those few who needed a good vocal lesson.<p>

Besides the few lessons, Anya had time to help a certain girl with her dancing.

Tina was a good dancer, but she wasn't as graceful as a gazelle. She tripped over her feet as she attempted to do the complicated dance steps. Anya was trying to gain the girl's friendship, and teaching the child would assist that task.

Friday afternoon, a total of three and a half weeks of teaching the little dancer, was quite a dull day.

Anya ate her meal, stalked through out the opera house, pick pocketed the manager-who leaves money in every pocket he has- and avoided the twins at all cost. Yet, this was her daily schedule that easily got her board. Now, at one O'clock, she was tutoring the Viscount's daughter. She had to say, that the girl had improved greatly at her dancing.

When the rehearsal had ended, Tina lingered longer than Anya would've expected. Sweat dripped from the child's hair as she kept giving away subtle glances.

The masked girl had never liked to be stared at. It made her self conscious and reminded her of the few weeks she was at school. With a growl, she said, "Out with it Tina! I do not like to be stared at."

Tina jumped. Quickly, before she enraged her new friend, she sputtered out, "I-I was wondering if you would like to come over for dinner tonight!" She began to slow down, "And um, I told my Mama and Papa all about you and they want to meet you."

It was Erik's daughter to be silenced this time around.

To be invited over to the Viscount's house for supper. She hadn't thought she would meet the man and woman who broke her father's heart so soon. Nor had she expected that Tina would blab about her to her parents. _Yet, _she thought to herself, _I could get even closer to those two. Have them gain my trust. That would be easier than the plan I thought of before. _

Anya cleared her throat, "I suppose I could attended your invitation, since I have no other plans tonight."

Tina squealed with delight, "Oh good! I'll come get you at seven!"

Anya watched the child run into the dressing rooms to change. The masked teen shook her head and looked down at her attire, "What am I going to where?"

**Done with another chapter. Hope it was sufficient.**

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	5. Chapter 4

Anya opened her door to see Tina in her evening dress with a bag sitting next to the child's feet. A baby blue evening dress. The dress looks extremely bright with her blood red dress. Her long blonde locks were curled so it looked bouncy and vibrant, much like her personality. The De Chagny asked, "Are you ready Anya?"

She nodded in response. Her rose necklace moved against her collar as she nodded. Tina smiled and grabbed the teen's hand, leading them out of the opera house in excitement.

The wind of mid fall chilled the two girls when they stepped outside. Anya pulled her black cloak tighter around her shoulders. Tina pulled a cloak from the bag she carried and placed it on her shoulders. They descended down the stairs where a carriage was waiting for them. The driver stepped down to help the ladies in.

Once the two were settled in comfortably, the driver cracked the reins and they were off.

The sun had set an hour ago, yet there was still life in the city. Lights shined from every window and shadows of people were moving constantly. As Anya surveyed the area, she felt weight press into her shoulder. She glanced over to Tina who was comfortly snuggled up against the musician. Normally, she would shrug the girl off, yet the warmth emanating from the child was soothing the butterflies in her stomach.

To say she was a tad nervous would be an understatement. About half way to the destination, she started to worry if she would revile her plans. She then realized if either of the De Chagnys would notice the mask on her face, they might think that she was related to the ex-phantom. It was the truth, but she didn't want Rauol to charge into her house and arrest or even kill her father.

As the carriage pulled up to the narrow, yet large fancy estate, she knew that there was no going back. This was the point of no return.

She was helped down after Tina got out. The two slowly ascended up the stairs and stood in front of the door. Tina knocked on the door three times before a butler with slick black hair opened the door. Tina thanked the man and walked into the foyer. The white haired teen followed reluctant while gawking up at the chandelier that hung above their heads.

Tina called out, "Maman! Father! I am home!"

A young, yet beautiful young woman stepped out of what appeared to be the drawing room. Her dark blondish brown hair was curled, like her daughter's. She wore a yellow evening dress with a pendant resting against her collar bone.

She embraced her daughter in a big hug. She twirled the girl around and placed a kiss on her temple. "Oh my dear Tina, I am glad you are home."

A man with foppish golden hair walked into the foyer. Tina ran to him and hugged his torso. The man brushed back the girl's hair, "I am also glad you are home my dear." He glanced up at Anya and his smile faulted, "And haven't I taught you your manners? You haven't introduced your friend."

The little blonde blushed and motioned to Anya. "Maman, Father, this is Anya Renard. She was the one who I told you about. Anya, these are my parents..."

Anya interrupted, "Christine and Raoul De Chagny," She curtsied, "It is an honor to meet you two."

Christine giggled and curtsied in turn, "Why you are quite flattering. I am the one who is to be honored. You are the daughter of the Great Enzo Renard. I simply love your father's work."

The teen managed a smile, "I shall tell him that Madame."

Raoul bow slightly as he eyed her cautiously, "Please, come into the drawing room where we may talk formally."

The butler took the girl's cloaks before they entered the drawing room. The room was fairly large that contained an ivory white piano, a light green sofa with two matching arm chairs, and a small fireplace in front of the seating.

Anya took her seat on the couch with Tina beside her. The adults took their seats in the arm chairs. The masked girl crossed her fingers together as the butler brought in tea and handed every one a cup.

The Viscount took a sip before saying, "Our daughter has been talking of you fondly. She says you are tutoring her with her dancing."

Anya nodded, "Yes. She did need some help with the steps. I wouldn't let one of my friends be embarrassed on stage by dancing awkwardly." Tina's face brightened when the word 'friend' applied to her.

Christine chuckled, "She talked about you constantly you know. All she does is talk how you teach her something or how..."

Tina whined, "Maman! Don't!"

Christine laughed softly before taking another sip of tea. An awkward silence stilled the air. The silence broke but the awkwardness was still apparent when Raoul spoke up. He said, "Why do you where that mask?" Christine slapped her husband's arm and gave him a vicious glare.

Anya sighed as she placed her cup on the tray when the butler walked in. She smoothed out her skirt and said, "It is fine Madame, I don't mind telling." She cleared her throat before saying, "You see, before my father was a famous composer, he, my mother, and I all lived in a small cottage miles away from pairs. I was quite young at the time, but I remember quite well. One day, my father bought a carriage to go to Paris to see an opera."

She clenched her hands in false grief. "When we were returning to our house, a mad man on a run away carriage rammed into the carriage." Christine visibly flinched, "The carriage hit the side where my mother was sitting. She did not survive. My father and I, on the other hand, lived but had horrible wounds on our faces. Even after our wounds healed, the air pained our scars. We couldn't have our faces with out bandages with out the painful feeling the air gives it. So, to seem classier, he had made masks for us so we didn't seem like we were fresh out of an accident."

Anya looked down to give more effect. The story worked. Christine leaned down to rub her shoulder in comfort. The masked girl looked up to see how regretful Raoul had looked. He placed his cup down, "I am sorry I brought up the painful past. Please forgive me."

The young Renard nodded solemnly, "All is forgiven."

To change the subject, Christine asked, "So, what specialty do you have in the arts?"

Anya liked this change in topic. She folded her hands in her lap, "Well, since I was home schooled, I had much time to learn particular skills. I dance, sing, act, draw, and play many various instruments very well. I have even learned to compose."

Christine drew back in astonishment, "Really? Your father did not hold back on your musical education, did he?"

The conversation stopped when the front door opened and closed.

In stepped a young man about the same age of Anya. He was six foot two, had long brown hair that ended at his shoulders and had dazzling blue eyes. He had that De Chagny face that is very recognizable. Yet it couldn't have been Christine's and Raoul's son merely because he was just too old to be so.

Tina jumped from the couch and clang arms around his waist. She giggled as he circled his arms around her, swinging her around. Christine smiled fondly at them and said, "Now now Arthur, be a gentleman and greet our guest."

Arthur looked up to face Anya's cool grey eyes. He let his sister go and walked to up to Anya with a sly smile gracing his lips. The young man instantaneously fell head over heals for her. He didn't know why, but the mysteriousness of her mask or the unique color of her hair had turned him on. He was determined to have this girl feel the same way.

He flashed the famous De Chagny smile and picked her hand up gently. He said smoothly, "Who are you," He bent down and kissed her palm, "My fair lady?"

Anya tried to hide her disgust as she pulled her hand away. She crossed her arms and said coldly, "I am Anya Renard monsieur. Now, who are you?"

Arthur bowed, "I am Arthur De Chagny at your service mon chérie."

Raoul snickered silently before standing, "That is enough my boy. Let's all go into the dinning room for dinner."

The young De Chagny nodded, "Understood father." The white haired girl raised a brow in question. Arthur turned to her, "My real father died when I was young. Yet, as my uncle has raised me since I was five, I consider him as my father. Now, mon chérie, may I assist you to the dinning room?" He led out his arm to her in a flirtatious manner.

Anya stood and said with a slight hiss, "I am quite fine following the others but _thank _you for the offer."

The masked child had conversed with the De Chagnys while dinner was being served and eaten. Tina, of course, sat next to her; Chatting away with enthusiasm. Sadly, Arthur had managed to snag the seat in front of her, giving her odd looks of what appeared to be affection. He flirted and flattered her as much as he could. Well, he had tried any how.

Anya had known how affection was supposed to work. She did see her father have such affection for Christine before his emotions were crushed and twisted. Yet, Anya did not want affection from someone who might rip her heart out as well, nor did she want it from a De Chagny either.

Dinner had led out and dinner was served into the drawing room once more. Christine had asked her to sing, and she did. The family was amazed by her voice, which made Anya smile on the inside.

"Your father must have been a wonderful instructor. Your voice is simply beautiful!" Christine exclaimed.

Anya nodded once, "Yes. My father has the most angle like voice in the world. I am blessed I have his gifts."

The butler came in and cleared his throat, "I am sorry to intrude, but the streets are covered in ice and it would be too dangerous for the carriage to ride out in those roads."

Christine covered her mouth, "Oh dear! That is unfortunate!" She looked over at Anya, "Miss Renard, I insist that you stay the night."

The white haired teen began to panic on the inside. She shook her head, "No! No. I don't want to be a burden. I don't mind walking back."

Yet, as Anya did not know, how persistent Christine was. She stood up, "I can't let you do that dear. You must stay. We have plenty enough rooms for you. Although clothes might be a different matter, it wouldn't be that difficult."

Raoul agreed, "You should stay. It is much too dangerous for you to venture out."

Anya admitted defeat and stayed the night. She borrowed a night gown from Christine, though she did not have as large of bust as she did. She took a warm bath before readying herself for bed. She locked the door before taking her mask off. She looked up at the mirror that hung in the room she was staying in.

The scars that she had since she could remember were much different. They seemed to grow along with her skin for they had stretch in an ugly way. They were so large that there was barely any soft skin left on the left side of her face. She slowly let her fingers brush against her ugly skin.

_"Papa?"_

_"Yes mon chérie?"_

_The little Anya climbed into her father's lap. Erik was twirking his Don Juan Triumphant yet he had time to answer his dear daughter's questions._

_She tugged at the little old bear held in her small arms. She gazed up at him with those doe like grey eyes. She asked, "Where did I get my scars Papa?"_

_Erik sighed. He knew this was going to happen, but he didn't expect it so soon. He pulled her white locks behind her ears. He said softly, "I do not know mon _chérie. _However, if I did know, I would strangle the one who gave them to you." Anya giggled as she snuggled closer to her mad father._

_She mumbled into his shirt, "Will Christine be my mommy Papa?"_

_The phantom couldn't help but to smile, "If all goes well, she will." _

_Anya dozed into a peaceful sleep. Erik carried her to the swan bed and tucked her in gently. He kissed her forehead and went back to his work. A year and a half passed and the two were stuck in the deepest parts of the phantom's lair. This was the back up lair if a mob was after them, and there was._

_The phantom sat by a pile of crates with his knees drawn up. He sobbed into them and moaned 'Christine. Christine.' over and over again. Anya didn't have to ask what happened. She managed to watch Erik and Christine sing to Don Juan from the rafters. Right when Christine took her father's mask, she made her way back to the lair. There, she watched her father, Christine, and Raoul in the main room. After Erik let Christine and Raoul go, he found his daughter and escaped from the angry mob._

That night was the worst night of her life and she blamed Christine and her foppish husband, Raoul. She wanted to kill them in their sleep, but that wouldn't do at all. They would know it was her and arrest her and perhaps her father.

She let her rage subside before heading off to bed.

**Longest Chapter so far.**

**Oh, if you haven't read the book Phantom of the Opera then you should. It is better than the movie! Infact, I plan to write something for the book version.**

**Anyways, please subscribe and review.**


	6. Chapter 5

The four young ladies laughed softly. The small group was sitting outside in the garden, watching the boys fence. The gang included Anya, Tina, Christine and Meg. The air was surprisingly warm for the early spring. You wouldn't have remembered the harsh frost that took over the land only months ago. (When Anya first met the De Chagnys.)

The little music lover, Anya, was fascinated with the small family. All she had was her father, and on occasions, the Giry women. All of the things they did together sparked curiosity in the young woman. So, she went over to Tina's house on many occasions. She went every weekend and sometimes spent the night during the week nights. Her goal on finding more about Raoul and Christine for her plan on revenge was gone like a flame thrown into the water. She tried her best to keep her task on hand, yet it slipped further into her mind.

Tina was a cause of it as well. She had always had some form of family, yet she didn't really have any friends. Meg did not count because the young woman was too caught up with her husband to care much about music anymore, and her Aunt was too old for her tastes.

Now she had a friend to call her own. Her hard shelled heart was no match to Tina's kindness and childish personality. For that was what Tina was, a child. Deep in her mind, something that she tries to ignore, is the thought of murdering Tina's parents would break the child's heart. She doesn't, she refuses, to let that thought enter her mind.

Yet it is there, and that gives yet another reason not to hurt the De Chagny couple. For it would tear her one friendship to threads.

Revenge was no longer her main priority.

"I have been meaning to ask you, Meg," Christine stated calmly, "How come you and Madame Giry never mentioned Enzo to us. If it was me, I would've told all of my friends that I knew the most famous composure in all ofFrance."

Anya eyed Meg, daring her to tell them the truth. Of course, the little Giry would never do such a thing. Meg cleared her throat, "Well, Mama and I wanted my dear uncle to have privacy. He doesn't really like all the attention, you know."

Christine cocked her head in slight confinement, "Why does he publish his work then?"

Anya placed her cup of Russian tea on the side table next to the bench. She folded her hands in her lap, "My father was poor and homeless when he grew up. He had to move place to place just to get food, he also stole money to buy stale bread...he didn't want the same life for me. So he built the most lavish cottage that anyone would be envious of and used his money to but only the best for his family. Besides, he wants to share his music to the world. Well, only if they admire the works of art."

Christine nodded slowly, "That makes sense."

Arthur was pushed into the sitting area. He landed flat on his back while his weapon spun and stopped at Anya's feet. Raoul was stood on a rock, looking down at his son with a triumphant smile. "It looks like I win again boy."

The younger De Chagny sat up, rubbing his head in circles. Arthur groaned, "I can never even touch you! I do not think anyone can."

Anya took a good look at the sword at her feet. A sly smile grew on her face. Meg noticed this grin and rubbed her temples, "Oh God."

The masked woman bent down and picked up the weapon, examining the craftsmanship. She chuckled, "Oh, I don't know about that." She stood and pointed the rapier at the man, "I challenge you, my Lord, to a match."

Raoul stared in disbelief at the girl. He had never met a woman who would be willing to fight. Frankly, he didn't know what to say. Christine was also in shock. She considered fighting to be unlady like, and to see a young woman demand for a duel was beyond her imagination. Meg just shook her head and told her, "Must you duel now, Anya? You aren't even dressed to fight."

Anya laughed, "Please, I dueled with father in dresses all the time. Besides, black hides most stains."

Raoul asked, "Your _father _trains you to fight?"

Anya nodded, "Oh yes. He wanted me to be able to protect my self if I am ever alone. It doesn't hurt to know how to defend one's self. I don't understand why society looks down upon women fighting. I guess it is because men are afraid that a woman would beat them at something." Anya eyed the viscount with a smile.

Raoul's pride was then slightly hurt, and decided to accept the challenge. The two stood in the yard with a few feet between them. Anya lowered her weapon close to the ground, "Don't hold back just because I am a girl, because I surely won't."

The fight begun.

Raoul was the first to take a stab at his opponent, yet Anya wistfully dodged it. As Raoul attempt give blows, Anya gracefully dodged them. She danced around the man, making the spar more of a game to the girl instead of a tango. She grew board playing with her prey and decided to take action. She grabbed the man's arm that held the sword and held it above his head while she kicked Raoul in the stomach. The man kneeled over in pain.

Anya raised her foot, kicked him onto his back, and placed the tip of her weapon on his shoulder.

Raoul looked up at the girl with wonder and awe. She didn't break a sweat, nor was she breathing rather hard. Anya stood above him with a hand on her hip. She lent down a hand and the man took it. She chuckled, "You weren't bad, although just striking at your opponent randomly isn't very wise...monsieur."

Arthur raised a brow upward as he gave Anya a sly smile. After the masked woman took her seat on the bench, the young man quickly took the space next to her. He wrapped his arm around the back of the seat and leaned in close to her. He played with a lock of her white hair, "I think it is...quite lovely that you know how to fight."

Anya, not giving in, brushed his hand and his flirting away. She scooted an inch away from him as she adjusted her skirt, "Yes, yes, you would."

Arthur loved how Anya played hard to get. He liked how she was the most difficult woman she had ever met. He would refuse to let her stubbornness let him down.

He laughed lightly, "Well, may I ask if you are going to the spring ball?" There was the annual Spring Masquerade Ball that was going to take place at the Opera house in two weeks time.

Tina jumped up in glee, "Oh are you Anya? I have a wonderful blue dress with this decorated mask with white patterns on it. I want you to come because Mama won't let me wear it until the ball."

Anya thought thoughtfully.

She had been to a few dances in her life time, only masquerades, for obvious reasons. She hadn't thought of the one at the opera house however. She wasn't sure if her father would want to go. He only went to the other dances because he was invited, and it would help keep his operas being popular. Strictly business.

To go to a ball to go with a...a friend, was something she never thought of. No, she wasn't scared that her father wouldn't be invited. Considering his status, she was sure that the other workers would kiss the ground he walked on. She wasn't afraid that she wouldn't have anything to wear. Her father could make her a dress that would make the other dresses look like rags. The mask would be of equal value.

Anya nodded slowly, "I shall ask my father if I should go. I do not know what he would say."

* * *

><p>This was the night of the opera. Anya couldn't be any more nervous. She felt like worms were wriggling around in her stomach. This was her first time performing in front of a crowd. She worried that she might go off key or take a wrong step. Through all of her worries, she never once hinted about them.<p>

Ten minutes before she had to go up, Tina ran to Anya, hugged her tightly, and then skipped to stage. The young lady brushed back her hair and smiled, feeling more confident than she had before. She followed the child to the stage, took her place next to Jose and looked onto the crowd as the curtain rose.

* * *

><p>Tears slipped down salty skin and onto fabrics of silk, velvet and cotton.<p>

A song so light and calming whirled through the air, causing people to fill with sadness and awe.

The singer took slow and deep breaths, putting all the emotion she had into that one song. Above her, in box five, a man in a half mask and cloak stood with pride. His gloved hands gripped the rail as his daughter sang closer to the end.

Anya ended the performance with a bow, earning her applause from the crowd. The people attending gave her a standing ovation, demanding more.

Something filled Anya's chest, something like joy as she lifted her gaze to the fifth box. Her eyes matched Erik's gaze. The man gave a slight nod and, like the phantom he was, slunk into the darkness behind him.

The teen jumped with glee and ran off the stage and into the hallways behind it. She ignored the odd looks people were giving her, and maneuvered around people trying to talk to her. With a slight turn to the right, she flew up the flight of stairs with her pale hands picking up her red skirt. She saw her father a few feet away at the top of those stairs. Her smile turned into a toothy grin and leaped at her father.

Erik caught her in his arms and spun her in circles. He laughed as he placed her down. He kissed her forehead, "You have done wonderfully my dear! The angels wept tonight!"

Anya buried her head into his chest, "I missed you Papa. So very much so."

"I too, my daughter, missed you greatly. I have not been alone for a long time...it was odd to say the least."

Pitter-pattering of feet echoed up the steps. Tina ran into the hallway, gasping out, "A-Anya! Where did you go? Everyone-" She paused in mid-sentence as she froze in mid-step. Before her was the legendary Enzo Renard, and she couldn't believe her eyes.

Anya, feeling oddly mischiefs, decided to introduce the young lady to her father. The masked woman took the girl's hand and led her over to Erik, already knowing her friend couldn't feel her legs. She directed a hand towards Erik, "This is my father Er-Enzo Renard. Father, "She glanced up at him, "This is my friend I made here, Tina De Chagny." She paused with the last name, yet it was too late to take it back. "She is big fan of yours Papa. She always wanted to meet you."

Erik was surprised, shocked even. Although it wasn't something a parent would say, he didn't think his daughter would make a friend, considering she was slightly cold and stoic.

He heard the name very well. _The daughter of Christine and that Fop. Yes, she does look a lot like her mother, _he thought. He bent down on one knee and took the girl's hand like it was fine china. He kissed her hand, "It is nice to meet you Mademoiselle. I saw you dancing on stage and I must say that you were splendid."

Tina's face flushed a light red. She pulled her hand back and curtsied, "Th-thank you Monsieur. Anya helped me with the dancing. Can Anya come to the Ball sir?" She bashfully twirled her skirt.

Erik was baffled by the question that was so quickly asked. He tapped his chin, looking between his daughter and Tina. He nodded slowly, "I think I can arrange that."

Tina beamed, yet she remembered why she ran up here. She turned to Anya, "Anya, everyone was looking for you. We were worried why you disappeared so suddenly."

Erik smiled softly and looked at his daughter and took her hands, "I mustn't keep you waiting then." He kissed her forehead, "I'll meet at the carriage. It is just outside." He turned to Tina and bowed, "Pleasure to meet you Miss." With that said he turned on his heels and walked away from the girls.

When the masked man was out of ear shot, Tina squealed with excitement. She blushed again, "I met Enzo Renard! My Mama is going to be so jealous!"

Anya chuckled softly, "Come on and let's get changed. I think I sweat through my dress." She lifted up her arms.

Tina shook her head and giggled, "No you don't. Come on! I want to tell the others!"

* * *

><p>The sun was peaking over the budding forest. Flowers slowly bloomed when the heat of the sun slunk its way through the leaves and touched its rays against the petals. The rays landed upon Anya's sleeping form, causing her to groan and nuzzle her face deeper into Erik's shoulders.<p>

The carriage has been moving for about four hours now. They left at one in the morning, and are fairly close to the estate. Anya passed out an hour into the ride, nodding off until she finally fell asleep. Erik was awake the entire trip. He never could sleep a full eight hours of sleep. On most nights, he would sleep for four or five hours the very most.

He just sat there, either gazing at his well missed daughter or glance at the scenery. He would occasionally hum to himself, either of an old song or a song he just made up.

The carriage gradually came up to a turn, pulling up to a two story cottage type house. The trimmings were white while the painting of the house it's self was a light blue. A fountain sculpture surrounded by a garden stood in the front, in the middle of the round-a-bout road. Two large windows and the cherry wood door on the first floor and the little round window on the second floor defined the facade of the house.

On the first floor of the estate were the kitchen, dinning room, living room, wash room, drawing room and two bedrooms lay. Anya's room and the guest room were the rooms on the first floor. On the second floor were Erik's room and his study/library.

The carriage stopped in front of the door with a slight jerk in front of the estate. The driver stepped out and opened the door for Erik. The masked man reached under his daughter's legs and shoulders, lifting her with great ease. He stepped off of the carriage and watched as the driver opened the door for him. Erik nodded his thanks and walked briskly into his home.

Erik carried Anya to her room, setting the teen on the bed after pulling back the covers. He tugged the dress off of her form, and untied her corset. All that left the girl was her chemise. Erik pulled the sheets around her fragile body and tucked them underneath her. He bent down, kissed her head and left the room to work on a few costumes.

**You have no idea how long this took me, and I won't be able to write on this for a while because I have others to work on. **

**By the way, I have a contest. I need help working on a dress and suit for Erik and Anya. I want any of you guys to find, make, and/or describe what their outfits and masks will be. Hats and jewelry can be included. The only thing I ask is that you don't have Anya, or Erik, wear something of mainly light colors like light blue or light yellow. Please don't suggest pink or purple because it wouldn't fit Anya and I hate those colors. Well, a dark purple would work...**

**Now, be creative. The outfits can be funny, if you like, or amazingingly awesome. Try patterns or fancy designs, this is Erik we are talking about. You can send me a picture or description, if you are good with words, to my email at yahoo . com (no spaces) Or you could send it to me at my deviant art profile. I think I have it in my profile page, if not; my profile name for deviant art is the same for fanfiction.**

**I won't be here this week, going on vacation.**

**Please subscribe and review.**


	7. Chapter 7

The young musician stirred in her bed as the sun shone through the windows and spread light upon her face. She groaned in protest and pulled the covers above her scared head. She was groggy but couldn't fall back into the peaceful sleep she was in. She was one of those people who found it impossible to go back into their slumber after they woke up.

Heaving a sigh, she kicked the blankets off. Her leg was caught in one of the fabrics and she was dragged to the floor. She shoved her blankets to the side and took a deep and slow breath, casually looking around the room to see if anyone saw her ungraceful fall from her bed.

She noticed her personal furniture and clothing and rubbed her head in confusion. With a brief look into her mind, she remembered that she was on a carriage with her father back to her house.

Anya grinned and stood from the ground. She rose too quickly and stumbled on one the blankets, hitting her head against her side table. She rubbed her forehead and cursed silently. She ignored the slight pain and dashed to her mirror. She whipped the cloth covering the glass away.

The mirror was bare and so was her face. She glared at her left side and picked up the brush lying on her dresser. She brushed out the unruly white knots. When her hair was as soft as silk, she rummaged through her dresser and found a plain dress. She slipped it on, not bothering with the bothersome corset.

She grabbed her mask and fixated it onto her face. She starred at the pile of sheets on the floor and shrugged, figuring that she would make her bed after breakfast.

When she entered the kitchen, she found an amusing sight before her. Her father was trying to cook. She would admit, he could cook meat and cut fruit, but that was about it. That was what looked all that Erik was cooking.

Anya laughed and sat at the table, "Good morning, Papa."

Erik looked behind his shoulder before looking down, "There is my little angel of music. Did you sleep well, ma chère?"

"Slept better than I have down at the opera. There beds are not quite as soft as ours." Anya yawned between words while grabbing an apple from the bowl of fruit that sat in the middle of the table.

The ex-phantom chuckled, "Yes, I do believe they have horrid beds."

The room was filled with a comfortable silence as the breakfast was being cooked. Erik took two plates from a cupboard; balance them on an arm like an acrobat. He served the meat onto the plates with his free hand and brought the dishes over to the table. He gracefully placed the plates in front of Anya and the empty chair across from her.

He walked back to his chair and started to cut the meat. Anya took a bite from the shinning red apple. She swallowed the delectable fruit and asked, "Did you sleep tonight, Papa?" The question must be asked for he had a bad habit of not sleeping for weeks on end. With her gone, she had no clue if he had been taken care of. Also, Erik kept avoiding his face to ever meet hers. So, naturally, she would be curious.

Erik said in a monotone voice, "I slept fine."

Anya placed her silverware down and eyed her father suspiciously, "Then look at me then."

He growled, "I do not need to follow my daughter's orders. I am the man in this household."

Anya played this game with him when he hasn't taken care of himself. She knew all she knew from Antoinette Giry herself, so she knew just how to pull Erik's strings.

The girl narrowed her eyes, "And I can easily turn you from a monsieur to a mademoiselle with out a second thought, and then we'll see who listens to whom."

The man hissed, knowing full well that Anya takes her threats seriously. He growled low in his throat before lifting his head.

Bags hung from the man's eyes and he had a pale complexion to his face. Anya sighed heavily, "When was the last time you have had a good nights rest?"

Erik drummed his digits on the table, "A week ago."

She groaned, "Papa!" She stood from the table, noticing that a red mark was peeking from behind the mask. She looked Erik in the eyes and asked, no, commanded him, "Take off the mask."

Stubbornly, the man refused. "Did I not tell you it was impolite to ask someone to take something off?"

She spat back, "Unless it dealt with a family member's health, which is much loved."

That aimed straight from the heart, and Erik gave up the argument, but didn't reach for his mask. Anya walked to the opposite end and gently took off the white mask. She almost dropped the mask at the sight she saw in front of her.

She gasped as she rose her hand to touch the blemishes and blisters on her father's face the covered almost the entire right side of his face. A few had opened up and were now dripping blood down his face. Erik winced and her hand drew back. She knelt down onto her knees and grasped his hands in hers. She asked, "How did this happen? Don't you take your mask off?"

He squeezed her hand, "I didn't have much time to sleep the past couple of weeks and I haven't taken my mask off as many times and I should." She gave him the 'You think?' look and stood to receive the bandages and alcohol.

* * *

><p>Antoinette Giry walked up the path from her carriage to the door of the famous Renard household. She had heard from her daughter that Anya was back.<p>

Why would she be visiting Anya at her estate but not at the opera house? The same excuse that Erik has; she lives too far to venture to that city. She only lives two miles away from Erik and the trip would be tiring for someone of her age.

She walked slowly up the steps with her cane in hand. She knocked on the door and waited for the door to be answered. Not a few moments later, Anya opened the door and beamed. She wrapped her arms around her Aunt and hugged her lovingly. She patted the girl's back, "You are so tall and growing into such a fine young lady." She sighed, "Is your father home?"

Anya led the woman in and took her shawl from her shoulders. She gestured to the drawing room, "In there Auntie." Giry thanked her as she walked over to the little sun filled room.

The ex-ballet teacher entered the room and gasped at the bandages at the man's face. She walked over to him, "What on earth happened Erik?"

Erik smiled deviously, "I seemed to have forgotten to take off my mask for a few weeks. Anya has been a dear and wrapped up my face for me."

Antoinette shook her head and sat across from her old companion. She looked out the window and smiled, "Anya is turning out quite beautifully. She is seventeen correct?" Erik leaned back in his chair and nodded. Giry set her cane aside and smoothed out her dress and said casually, "She is in her prime age to marry."

The ex-Phantom almost bolted from his chair. He sat up rigid and slammed his hands on his knees. He hissed out, "My daughter will be with no other man besides myself. No one could possibly treat her the way I do; with such care and protection."

Antoinette knew that it would be a touchy subject, considering Anya was the only woman in his life who had always loved him. She decided to no longer keep the subject going and asked, "Are you and Anya going to the ball? There was a rumor at the Opera House that you two were going. I am surprised Erik, you are not one to willingly go to events with out a second motivation." She raised her brow, "There is no motivation, is there?"

Erik let his head rest on his palm, "There is no motive besides doing what my dear daughter wants. Apparently there is a girl that my daughter is fond of, and that girl wanted Anya to go. I never knew she had a soft spot for children."

Giry, being as curious as she was, asked Erik who this girl was when Anya came in with a pot of tea and two teacups that sat on a platter. She set the platter down on a side table and handed a cup of tea to her guest and her father. She knelt at Erik's feet with her legs to the side like a mermaid. Giry thanked the child and nursed her tea.

Giry asked, "What are you two wearing for the ball?" She looked slyly over to Erik, knowing full well that he has something already in progress.

Erik smiled and said boastfully, "That would be a secret for you two. It will be magnificent, I will tell you that."

His daughter chuckled, "Everything you create is magnificent Papa, well, besides that soup you made last year." Erik rolled his eyes and ignored the teen's comment.

**Sorry it took sooo long! I lost my will to write this story, but I have found it again!**

**Please subscribe and review.**


	8. Chapter 8

The Opera house shadowed the road that was filled with every carriage imaginable. Inside the electric lights glowed softly to illuminate the forya. The floors were scrubbed of every scrap and scruff. It was clean enough to see your own image. The walls shone a bright red that complemented the marble statues carefully placed about. Servants in black suits scurried around, handing out wine and such, as the orchestra in the far right corner played simple yet elegant tunes.

In all fairness, it was a bit overwhelming for Tina.

She stood at the foot of the staircase as she glanced around anxiously. She wore a little blue dress that made her form look even thinner. Her blonde hair was curled and tied back into a blue silk bow. Her blue eyes scanned the large room, searching for her friend.

"Tina, go on and dance and be marry. I am sure she will be here soon." She looked up at her mother whom was smiling down at her. Christine's dark hair was curled and splayed around her simple lavender dress with lavender ribbons on the bottom. Her mask was held in her hand.

Her father walked over with a glass of wine in each hand. He gave one to his wife and kissed her cheek, "Why are you not enjoying yourself?" Arthur walked up behind and looked down at her as well.

"Well, I..." Her sentence was cut off when she saw Anya entering alone. She wore a dark strapless red dress that split just above her knees. Real peacock feathers lined the bottom and dragged behind her. A black sash was wrapped around her middle and tied in a tasteful bow in the front. Her mask was a plain white mask that covered the top of her face on both sides. Her white hair was braided behind her and tied with a black bow.

Tina ran up to her and hugged her fiercely.

She chuckled and held her, "How have you been lately? Hopefully in good health."

She nodded, "Oh yes, it has been very pleasant." She looked behind the young woman and frowned, "Where is your Mr. Enzo?"

Any smoothed out her dress, "He is discussing something with the coachman. He will be in shortly."

Christine walked over to the two girls, "Oh Anya! You look so beautiful! Who made your dress?"

"Oh, my father just knows certain people with certain skills."

Raoul walked over and kissed the back of Anya's hand. Arthur waltzed over and did the same, murmuring 'stunning' as he looked into her eyes with amusement. Soon, the Hedley Waltz began to play. Without giving consent, Arthur grabbed Anya by the hand and dragged her to the dance floor. Raoul laughed out loud before taking his beloved with him as well.

Tina stood alone, a bit depressed that she was abandoned. A soft voice replied from behind, "May I take this dance?"

She spun around to see Erik knelling down with a smile playing on his lips. His black gloved hand reached out for hers. This gentleman wore a red vest with gold laces on top of a black dress shirt. His pants were a dark black and a golden pocket watch chain hung from his pocket. His mask was black with smaller peacock feathers that lined the top.

She curtsied, "You may."

He led her to the dance floor, and then presumes to dance with her. Tina smiled with glee as she danced with her hero, who couldn't help but smile back. The song ended and Tina began to giggle. He bent down, kissed her hand, and rose when her daughter came to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Christine walked over, her face flushed from dancing, and her eyes were widened at the sight before her. She stuttered, "Mr. Renard, I presume?"

His shock was hidden from the others, but his breath was taken away at the sight of her fair face. It brought back memories he had tried to oppress. He bowed gracefully and placed his hand on his chest, "Madame Di...De Changy. It is an honor to meet such a performer as you."

She blushed a very bright crimson, "Oh, well thank you Mr. Renard sir."

He smiled, "Call me...Enzo."

Christine had not seemed notice the familiarity in his voice, which relieved him greatly. Raoul walked over and held out his hand, "Raoul De Changy. I hear that you are a famous composer?"

"You heard correctly."

"Well, it is an honor to meet you sir."

Erik repressed his sneer and smiled fondly, "Likewise."

Tina ran up to her mother and announced, "I got to dance with him Maman! Isn't that wonderful?!"

"What do you say my dear."

"Oh, right." She turned to the masked man, "Thank you for the dance sir"

He kissed her fingers, "Oh, but I must thank you for allowing me to dance with you."

She giggled and Anya rolled her eyes. Arthur stood next to his father and held out his hand, "It is nice to meet your acquaintance Mr. Renard."

Erik narrowed his eyes ever so slightly as he held the other man's hand in a tight grip, "I noticed you danced with my daughter just a moment ago." He refused to let go of the young man's hand.

Arthur smiled awkwardly at the tightening grip on his hand and the hint of a glare coming from the masked man. He stammered out, "Y-Yes sir. She is a very beautiful woman..I mean dancer!"

Erik eyed the boy and looked over to Anya, who just shrugged. The man let the boy go and nodded stiffly, "I taught her myself." Arthur pulled his hand back quickly, holding it in such a way as if his hand was just broken.

Raoul looked over at him, "I heard you two live quite a ways away. You are not going back out tonight are you?"

Erik shook his head, "No, we are staying a relative's house in..."

"Uncle!"

Erik was attacked from behind by Meg with a hug. The man stumbled forward until he gained his composure. He looked back at Meg beaming up at him and Anya clutching her stomach in laughter. He straightened himself and glared over at Anya, "You too planed this, didn't you?" Meg stepped away from him and pulled a stray hair behind her gold half mask, smiling broadly.

"Well, Uncle, I needed another way to greet you, considering I haven't seen you for a few months." He humphed in disbelief. Meg laughed and then realized that Erik was standing next to Christine. Her eyes widened a bit and Erik simply shrugged, as if the whole meeting did not affect him in any form. Meg rolled her eyes and asked, "Did my mother come in with you?"

Erik crossed his arms and sneered, "I am not the keeper of your mother."

Meg placed a hand on her hip and huffed. She looked over at Anya, "They got into another fight again, didn't they?" The fair haired child simply nodded. Meg pinched the bridge of her nose, "Fine, I'll find her myself. Don't think this won't affect your sleeping arrangement's Uncle!"

The man hissed back, "I have slept on every surface possible in every condition, so it won't affect me." Meg left, considering that arguing with him would be a waste of time.

Anya shook her head and looked over at the De Changys, who stood in confusion, and said, "Don't mind them. They are complete opposites and bicker at each other for enjoyment." Anya saw Raoul attempt to walk over to her father and make conversation. She darted in front of him and looked up at him with doll-like eyes. What she asked next almost caused her to shiver and gag, "Another song is about to start, Monsieur. may I take this dance?"

Raoul was stunned for only a moment before taking her hand and bowed, "Of course my dear."

Erik stood in confusion as the two walked off to dance. He shook his head and looked over at Christine, who was still watching her husband walk to the dance floor with his daughter. He looked at her for a moment more, wondering if he should attempt a dance with her. Yet, he could not do it, for if he did,he might just do something he might regret later. So when Christine, Tina and Arthur turned around, the ex-phantom was gone.

**I am soooo sorry for taking months on this. DON'T KILL ME! Blame my school for giving me so much studying and homework! Being a senior sucks butt.**

**Anyhow, what will Erik do? Who knows! By the way, the design for Erik's and Anya's outfits is designed by Dog-days-are-gone and ihateu3 on deviant art gave them to me. So, thank them.**

**Please review and subscribe.**


	9. Chapter 9

Unlike her mother, Meg kept her threats. Erik lay in the ice box that was the carriage house, next to a slobbering poodle, with a thin sheet to suffice for a blanket. Of course, it wasn't all bad. The dog was good comfort and an object of warmth.

He entered the house in his usual attire of a white, silk dress shirt and black, cotton slacks. His half mask set rightly on his face, reflecting the light of the sun as he entered the kitchen from the back door. Madame Giry sat at the table as his daughter and her daughter set the table for dinner.

Anya held a bottle of wine and poured it in the four glasses (Meg's husband was away for a business trip). He looked at his daughter and noticed that she had a faint smile on her lips and bags under her visible eye.

Meg snickered as he walked into her threshold, "How was your sleep, Uncle?"

"Most wondrous, thank you." Meg's mouth opened slightly ajar but knew that he would never complain over 'trivial' things. Erik inquired, "How was the ball last night?"

Meg threw a dish rag over her arm, "It would have been more suitable if you were actually there instead of the roof! I had to explain that you had to investigate the opera house further, to see if met the requirements for your new opera!"

"You told them I had a new opera! Great, now I have to make a new one."

"Don't play koi with me, we all know you already have fifteen written down and done with, four more being composed right this seconds. So none of that!" Erik smirked. He honestly did have twenty pieces done that he hadn't published yet, but he wasn't going to tell her that. It would only make her snarkier.

Once the meal of fried ham and sunny-side up eggs were served to each diner, they sat down in their preferred seats. Giry cleared her throat as she glared at Erik and Anya who just had a fork and knife in each hands. "No masks at the table."

The masked pair growled inwardly. The rule had been established about ten years ago when the Giry girls could finally look upon their faces without disgust. Erik, at first, refused purely out of the fact that it made him uncomfortable. Giry always had her way, though, and soon he followed the rule. No matter how many years have passed or no matter how many times he loved the fact that his face didn't hurt when he ate, he still hated that rule.

With a grumble he discarded his mask, allowing his bloated, scared flesh, and elongated nostril to feel the coolness of the winter air. He placed the ceramic mask on the table with a thud. His mismatched eyes looked from his plate and over to his daughter and noticed that her mask was on the table. She was one who followed rules precisely so it was curious as to why she hesitated.

"Darling, Madame Antoinette as asked up to discarded our masks." Anya's eyes widened only an inch and her back straightened. Clenching her hands, she glanced at her father and the other two. "Anya." Her father's voice was now stern. Anya had guessed that he now knew that something was wrong in disobeying his orders.

With a deep breath she wrapped her fingers around the stark black mask and pried it from her face, trying to keep herself from wincing. She dipped her head, allowing her stringy hair to hide her face, and set her mask into her lap.

"Anya. Look at me!"

Without a pause, she pulled her face up into the light and turned to look at Erik. He gasped.

The left side of her face was covered from the tip of her hair line and down to her chin with festering blisters of a multitude of colors: red, yellow, purple/blue, green. A few of the sores were attached to the mask, as in way she hid it in her lap, and were now pouring blood or sputtering out puss from the loss of skin. A closer look that she had even more scars over her old ones, showing that there were a few that had grew before but somehow managed to heal.

Erik nearly flipped the table in order to investigate her wounds. He pressed his calloused hand gently to her smooth cheek as his eyes wordlessly darted over her wounds. Anya could hear Meg rushing from the dining room and out the door to retrieve medical supplies or a doctor but her gaze could not be removed from his worried and disappointed gaze.

Erik glided a thumb over a redden part of her skin gently, noticing that her head kicked back in response to the pain. Seeing her in pain set Erik in a rage and he stood, using his height to overpower her. He hissed, "Not a week ago you told me to watch my covered face! Now I find out that you can't even use your own advice! It looks like you went at least a month or two like this. No wonder you left your mask on when you saw me. Not only do you have countless sores, but they are all infected! What, Daughter, the hell were you thinking?"

Anya's face couldn't pull away from his. Her lips began to tremble as tears pooled around her eyes. She choked as she sobbed, "I-I didn't have a moment to take my mask off! Mi-Middle in the y-ye-year a girl managed to enter my room, even with my door locked! So…I slept with it on and bathed with it on. I didn't want them to s-see my face! I…I didn't want to be called a freak…I was scared, Father." She wiped tears from her clean face, sniffling.

Leaving him speechless and out of rage, Erik slowly knelt down again. Wordlessly, he pulled her to his chest, not caring if any of the secretions stained his shirt. He stroked her head as she silently sobbed into his chest. He shushed her whilst rocking back and forth on his heels.

This was his fault. If he hadn't forced these thoughts into her head when she was younger, then maybe she would be more comfortable in her skin…unlike him.

* * *

><p>"Madame, a Monsieur Enzo is at the door."<p>

The family butler scurried into the room, alerting Christine to the visitor. The woman whispered, "Enzo," and stood from her set hastily. She smoothed the wrinkles in her dress and pulled her gloves closer to her hands. She breathed deeply before walking steadily to the door.

In the fore, Erik stood with his hands behind his back as he looked up at a painting hung but the door. He wore a blonde wig along with a full, white mask. He noticed Christine right away and turned to her. He bowed politely, "Madame De Chagney, I have come to say that the appointment that my daughter, Anya, has made cannot be attended to. She had some medical issues this morning and she is not well enough to leave Meg's house. I apologize for her ability to not make it."

Christine placed a hand on her heart, "Anya is ill? Oh, no! Is she alright?"

Erik nodded, "Yes, Madame. She just had an infected cut but not even that could possibly kill my fiery dove."

The countess nodded, "Yes, she does have that spirit. I hope she heals quickly and without pain." She sighed, "She reminds me of…an old friend I use to have."

The masked man froze, unsure what to say next. Cautiously, he asked, "An old friend?"

She nodded, "Yes. He was good to me, and had the same spirit and talent that she has. I miss him to this day." There was a long pause, an awkward one for Erik, yet Christine went on, "Anyhow, I am disappointed that she is not able to make it. This will sadden my daughter. Anya is the only real friend she has."

A pang went through Erik's old, softening heart. He smiled, "Well, when Anya is well enough, I shall send note for her to come and visit her at Meg's house."

The ex-opera singer laughed in glee, "You would allow that? Oh that would make Tina so very happy! Thank you, truly, Monsieur!"

Erik kissed her gloved hand, "It is a pleasure, Christine."

**Yes, I am aware of how long this too put up. I am trying to get better since I got a laptop. Thank you for still reading this! Please review and subscribe.**


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